Endgame
by Lapis Love
Summary: This story is for Stefonnie Appreciation Week. Day 7 prompt. What do you get when you put two spies, one the golden child from the illustrious MI-6, and an ex-CIA operative that's on the run, in a hotel room in Shanghai, China? Read and find out. AH/AU/Movieverse. Inspired by certain scenes from a certain Daniel Craig James Bond movie.


**A/N: This one-shot is in honor of Stefonnie Appreciation Week. I'm loading this early because the AH/AU is Day 7, and I can't wait that long for you guys to read this! To give a short synopsis, this is AH/AU/Movieverse and the movie I'm borrowing is James Bond. This is inspired by the Daniel Craig James Bond movies. If you've seen one, two, or all, yea! If not, I don't borrow too many plot points from those movies so it won't be confusing, and of course I have to add my own spin to things. Hope you likey and thank you for reading! **

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Shanghai, China **

Stefan Salvatore stood under the pelting water, one hand smashed against the cold tile, the other gripping the back of his neck. Six months, ten countries, eight dead wanted assassins, retrieval of encrypted military data, five women—no seven he forgot about the twins, three broken ribs, two pints of spilled blood, a cracked femur, dislocated shoulder, a stab wound, and about a thousand consumed straight bourbons later and he was on holiday—finally.

After M's death Stefan threw himself into his work. He had never been good at being complacent, of just existing and doing the same thing day in and day out as the people around him did. Some needed the monotony of life to get through their otherwise neurotic existences, but not him. He was the exception and not the rule. The people he protected, was willing to give his life for, strangers they all were. What they saw was a well-dressed, well-versed man in his mid to late thirties with grayish-green eyes, shortly cropped auburn hair, and a handsome face that had seen too much death and had caused his fair share of mayhem, with a charismatic smile to boot. What they saw was nothing but a well constructed mask that he couldn't take off, not even for a second.

Such was the life of an MI-6 agent.

Blindly he groped for the faucet and turned off the water in the shower. Stefan reached for his towel and wrapped it around his hips and pushed open the frosted glass door.

This was his temporary home for the time being since his old one back in London had been sold after he had been declared dead. Next to Lazarus, Stefan was the most resurrected man in the history of mankind. He could find some humor behind it, he figured as he wiped the built up condensation off the vanity mirror. Yet he hadn't exactly been in a laughing mood for a long time now.

When he slept he didn't dream. Everything he ate was tasteless, alcohol hadn't lost its usefulness, but he couldn't do his job nor do it thoroughly falling down drunk.

He did it all for queen and country but more so for country.

The spoils were nice though, Stefan thought as he reached for his toothbrush and began to hum one of his favorite Bon Jovi songs while covering the bristles with mint flavored toothpaste. Jamming the brush deep in his mouth, Stefan avoided making eye contact with himself. Instead he was too busy playing over the last moment in India—that he remembered. The explosion. The shards of glass that flew into his eyes and nose, the disorientation of sailing through the air and landing on a crowd of people, the searing heat from the bomb, the van full of kids that happened to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He could never forget those piteous screams.

The job could get dirty; the loss of life could be downright inhumane sometimes. Stefan was no stranger to killing men with his bare hands, but seeing those frightened faces, hearing their pleas to be rescued, and knowing he was right there but still too far away to do anything about it twisted his gut.

Stefan spat out a wad of sudsy toothpaste and noticed there was some blood in the mixture. He had brushed too hard again.

Rinsing his mouth, he finally looked into his deep-set eyes and couldn't recognize what he was seeing, let alone _who _he was seeing. Being a spy meant adapting a new identity in every single country he traveled, and with each carefully spun lie Stefan lost a tiny piece of himself. But his past had to stay buried, was basically wiped clean from all history books. Stefan Salvatore didn't really exist. He was a phantom, a harbinger of death, a lonely woman's bedmate, an evildoer's worst nightmare.

_You're supposed to be on vacation, Stefan, not indulging in self-introspection, gotdamit._

Shaking his head, Stefan toweled himself dry and then rewrapped the towel around his narrow hips.

The rush of cold air smacked against his skin the second he opened the door and took one step over the threshold into his darkened bedroom, but he instantly stopped.

The click of a semi-automatic gun pressed to his temple would do that to a man. Slowly raising his hands in surrender, Stefan's eyes shifted to the right and just out of his peripheral he saw his late-night visitor.

She was covered in shadows but there was no mistaking who that trigger happy finger belonged to.

Her feline silhouette and the way she held her shooting arm stiff and unwavering—just as she had been taught gave off the identity more than seeing her standing right in front of him, though Stefan wouldn't mind. They were no strangers to getting down, dirty, and naked on expensive sheets in some of the priciest hotels in the world. Chasing down criminals could be just as pleasurable for Stefan as chasing tail and hers was some of the best he ever had the fortune of having. Maybe if he played his cards right she might be in a consenting mood, but until she lowered that gun, he knew it was best to follow her lead on this.

As he took a step, the gun kept in alignment with his head. His eyelid narrowed while his mouth flattened out into an unimpressed grimace.

"Is that really necessary?" Stefan asked what he already knew was a pointless question.

"It's been six months, Salvatore. I'm still waiting for answers so I'd say: yes this is necessary."

"Perhaps you'd care to refresh your memory and realize that I've been away for those six months and certainly not sailing the Mediterranean. You take a big risk coming here like this."

"You _promised_," the sultry voice persisted.

The tired agent sighed in defeat and then lightning fast and in a clever slight of hand, had relieved the gun from the woman, twisted both arms behind her back, and now stood behind her, breathing heavily into her ear.

"I didn't promise you shit."

"Liar," the intruder seethed through straight white teeth. "That's all you've _ever_ been good at, and certainly nothing else."

They were silent for a moment and then the noticeable rustle of a towel hitting the floor caught both of their attention while Stefan's backside caught the brunt of a draft.

Stefan grinned and tightened his hold on her arms while keeping the gun buried underneath her jaw. He knew she was uncomfortable but was doing an admirable job of downplaying the fact that the metal digging into her caramel flesh was only seconds from bringing a tear to her eye. Hurting women, even those who might have deserved it, wasn't his thing. Breaking hearts—that he could do, but even that had a tendency to haunt him.

Before he earned his nickname The Ripper, Stefan Salvatore, Agent of MI-6 had been seen as the pushover. The one who gave into demands too easily and especially if it were a woman calling the shots. He had been teased as being softer than wet tissue by his peers, and it wasn't until he hung his humanity on a coat rack while disemboweling enemies of the Crown, that he finally started to earn a little respect.

She knew that as well and liked to deliberately push his buttons hoping he'd lose control. She admitted she liked it when he was rough, but Stefan was positive the reason why she broke into his hotel room wasn't to relive those four weeks in Costa Rica. Nope, she was here to collect on a long overdue debt.

"I think we both know I'm good at more than turning a phrase or making false promises," he whispered into her ear and felt himself hardening against her voluptuous backside. "We're many things to different people, but lying to each other doesn't really suit us. Wouldn't you agree…Bonnie?"

Stefan spun her out of his arms, ejected the magazine out of the gun, ejected the bullet that was in the chamber, and held both items out to the incensed woman.

Viridian eyes glared at him before snatching her gun and clip out of his hands.

Bonnie Bennett also known as Black Mamba, was wanted by every single law enforcement bureau on the face of the globe, and had several bounties along with death sentences over her head. She was a former CIA spy who claimed what all spies who went rogue with a long line of casualties behind them: she was framed.

For the last four years she had been on the run from the FBI, US Marshals, Homeland Security, Scotland Yard, Interpol, you name it and they all wanted a piece of her. Just having her in his room could land him in prison for years if he didn't do the right thing and sound the alarm. But Stefan believed Bonnie's story—well at least parts of it, that her partner had been the one to go rogue and not her and that she never attempted to assassinate members of the G8 Summit.

However, instinct told Stefan she was hiding something and whatever that something was, it was big. How their paths crossed was during a poker tournament in Montenegro where it had been his job to win the full pot to stop a known accountant for a well-organized terrorist group from financing their next coup.

Stefan had walked away with a little over two hundred million dollars, bragging rights, welts on his back from her fingernails, and her smoky laughter that haunted his dreams for weeks on end.

They kept in touch on and off mostly off since he was so busy saving the world and stopping terror from reigning supreme, but the second Bonnie found herself as public enemy number one, it had been him she turned to for help. Stefan tried to find out what he could without raising suspicion, which hadn't been easy. They worked for conflicting agencies that grudgingly traded information when options had been few and limited. But that was very rare. Technically neither one of them was supposed to exist to the other, yet they somehow continued to orbit one another. Meeting up in obscure places, hydrating themselves on aged liquor, filling their bellies with caviar, while going through two boxes of 12-pack condoms—that was the whole of their relationship.

Bonnie may have inadvertently saved his life when he had been pumped full of poison at the poker game, but he had paid her in kind by using his body as a shield during a shoot out involving the guy both of their respective agencies wanted them to bring in.

You take a bullet, and in his case several, for someone and that person didn't shoot you in the face after saying their life, made that person a friend in Stefan's eyes. And finding friends in this business that you could trust was like finding gold in California. Next to impossible.

Brazenly Stefan stood as naked as the day he came into the world in front of Bonnie. She made it no secret she was ogling him as her eyes began from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, stopping to appreciate the male muscle that hung between his legs corded in veins and slowly rising to the occasion. Unconsciously she bit down on a corner of her lip and then shook herself out of whatever fantasy was brewing within the depths of those hazel-green eyes.

"I'm still being hunted down and you told me that you would do something to alleviate the heat. So what have you done, Stefan? I saved your life once so you owe me," her eyes narrowed into slits.

"Just as I've saved yours. If you were anyone else I'd put a bullet in your head and stuff your body in the nearest Dumpster just like I'd expect you to do the same for me. You knew what you were signing yourself up for, Bonnie when you became an agent. I don't see how that's _my _problem."

A corner of her blackberry painted lips lifted causing ice to flow through Stefan's veins. Bonnie had a reputation of her own. A very well earned one as well. Some called her a witch, others called her Black Widow, but, and because he asked her, Bonnie admitted she liked being referred as Black Mamba one of the world's most venomous snakes that could kill a man in minutes or less. Yet what made Bonnie so special was the fact she could inject you with something, or pump you full of bullets—empty handed, and you wouldn't know you were dying until your knees kissed the floor, and you were vomiting blood everywhere.

She was the kind of spy who eliminated you while you literally held her at gunpoint, and she'd do so with that crooked half-smirk on her face. Her calling card if you will.

Stefan gulped nervously and tried to keep his wits about him. One false move and he would be a dead man, and how many people died in the nude in hotel rooms? He certainly didn't want to become another statistic.

Bonnie took a step closer to Stefan yet remained out of range. Dragging her hungry eyes over his physique she had to confess that her panties definitely weren't as dry as they were before she broke into his room. In fact, her panties hadn't been dry since the moment she followed Stefan from the airport to his hotel. She knew all of his movements, his targets, oftentimes helping with damage control though she remained behind the scenes. Bonnie was an excellent sharp shooter; could take down a target from over five miles away, while being in the room with her target. That was her trick. A specially designed system where the mathematics had to be _just _right. It was her gift, it was her specialty.

Stefan's name had been added to her list. He knew too much about her and if the pressure ever became too much, he could hand her over to his superiors or to hers. He was a liability though she'd hate for their current involvement to come to a bloody end, but if that was the way things would play out—so be it. However, he needed to know something first and depending on his response would either damn or save his soul.

"Bonnie, the Intel on you is incriminating. Receipts, plane tickets, surveillance footage…a very obvious footprint you left behind right before the embassy where dignitaries, foreign powers, heads of state and even _your_ President were supposed to gather for a luncheon was literally shot to shit."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "I thought you were one of the smart ones, Salvatore? Don't make me regret giving you an A for effort. What spy even in a spoof movie about spies would _ever _leave that kind of a footprint behind? What's one of the first things we're taught in this business? If all the ducks are lined in a row…they were planted. When does anything ever fall into place?"

Stefan had to concede. Bonnie had a very valid point. If things looked too good to be true, if all the planets were in alignment then that meant something was wrong, _very_ wrong.

"While they're wasting their time looking for me the one responsible is regrouping and preparing for the next hit. The Olympics will be held in your neck of the woods, Stefan."

"You think that might be the next target?"

"It would be mine. You have contacts who have contacts that I don't have. Someone out of the bunch should be able to exonerate me, and I need you and them to hurry because I'm on a tight schedule."

Weren't they all?

Stefan sighed, picked up his towel and wrapped it around his waist again. "And I'm currently on a much earned vacation. You can stew for a little while longer, can't you?"

"I'm afraid I can't."

Snorting, Stefan moved beyond Bonnie then walked out to the rest of the suite where he made a beeline for the wet bar and poured himself a shot of bourbon. Remembering he had company, Stefan fixed another for his uninvited guest.

Turning, he held the glass out to Bonnie who didn't move to take it.

"I can't drink that."

"Have an aversion to bourbon now?"

"I don't…but your daughter does."

Stefan blinked. And kept blinking until finally his eyes dropped below her neck. How did he miss _that_? Bonnie was draped in a knee-length deep violet trench coat, stockings, and riding boots. But it was the unmistakable bulge protruding from her center that made his eyes pop out of their sockets.

The glass in his hand fell and crashed against the tile floor. Liquid splashed against his legs, glass bounced off his feet. The world around him swam, and Stefan was right back in India seeing those children trapped in that van, little hands banging against the window shouting to be saved before that jack knifed bus exploded.

Bonnie was pregnant? Bonnie was pregnant with _his _kid? How? _Costa Rica, _his mind which was the only thing working at this point supplied the answer. But we used condoms! _Except for the first round. Couldn't wait. Was too excited because it had been so long. Remember? _Shit!

"Shit," Stefan repeated aloud, shook his head, and then bent down to pick up the larger pieces of the broken tumbler.

_She could be lying_, Stefan continued to think as his hands moved without seeing. That could be anyone's kid that she's trying to pass off as yours because she needs your help because you're good at what you do. _Those are very valid points, but you already know Bonnie isn't that type of person, so just deal with it. You the pappy._

A downright annoyed and unfriendly face glowered at Bonnie who hadn't moved from her spot. She didn't want to believe she was pregnant when she first found out, either. Didn't want to believe the one time she allowed her hormones to drown her common sense the consequence would backfire like this. Bonnie had gone back and forth on whether to have an abortion, carry the child to term and then put it up for adoption, or to raise her child on her own. Raising a child in her current field and especially when she had been labeled as a menace to society was the last thing she wanted. Wouldn't be fair to the baby, but as the fetus grew, and then kicked her late one night, Bonnie's decision had been made.

She wanted her baby, but she couldn't give birth in Leavenworth, a federal penitentiary. And she didn't want her baby taken from her while she rotted away in a jail cell for crimes she didn't commit. Or worse be put to death.

She needed Stefan in more ways than one. He was the father. He was the only man in all her thirty years she could honestly say she gave a damn about who wasn't related to her by blood. Reality constantly told Bonnie that Stefan couldn't be a father much like she couldn't be a mother because their jobs were one major occupational hazard, but she at least wanted him to know he had a child out there before she disappeared off the grid for good.

After the mess on the floor was squared away the awkward silence continued to blanket the room. Stefan wanted to throw on some clothes since standing in a towel seemed indecent considering the serious nature of Bonnie's revelation. Him? A dad? He couldn't see it.

"I know this is a lot to take in," Bonnie began. "It took me months to accept it and I still have a hard time accepting things, but its there," she pointed at her belly, "and its not getting smaller as the days go by."

"How far along are you?"

"I'm a week away from being seven months."

"Shit," Stefan whispered and nearly rubbed the skin off the back of his neck. Here he thought he might get to play around in her pussy for a couple of hours, but he hadn't expected something like this. Something life altering and world shattering.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. She knew Stefan could be a lot more articulate than what he was being, and she was trying not to be offended. This child hadn't certainly been made on its own so he should stop acting like it was her fault and her fault alone.

"I didn't come here to ask you to make an honest woman out of me, Stefan by marrying me. I need you to help me clear my name, now more than ever. Would you want your daughter to be born in prison while I wait for trial or a firing squad? Or better yet, placed in foster care where, trust me, death might actually be kinder for her?"

A fire lit into his eyes and he crossed the room seemingly in two strides and gripped Bonnie lightly by the arms. "No one is touching you or our daughter. I don't know how this is going to work," his eyes fell to her stomach. "We'll figure something out." Pause. "You know for sure it's a girl?"

Bonnie felt her throat tighten with emotion. She nodded. "It is."

"Have you named her?"

"No."

"Don't until we get this figured out."

Bonnie hesitated. "You're not going to contest the paternity?" she wanted to know. She didn't think Stefan would be so accepting of their newfound situation this was slightly making her head spin. "I know all about your reputation."

Yeah and because of his reputation Stefan knew he had dodged more bullets than any other whoremongering man should.

He stared unwaveringly at Bonnie. "We might be professional liars and killers, but I know you wouldn't lie about something like this."

"I might. I have motive."

"You do. And you also know my policy. I don't hurt women or children." Stefan's memory decided to kick him in the pants as he remembered he had restrained Bonnie and held a gun to her head not twenty minutes ago. He sighed in shame. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"You didn't know," Bonnie gently let him off the hook.

They fell silent again and then tentatively, Stefan touched Bonnie's belly. He couldn't feel very much because of her buttoned coat.

"Here," Bonnie said and then shucked off one of the barriers keeping his warm hand from contouring to her hardened stomach.

Thick, dark brown eyebrows furrowed the second Stefan's hand came into contact with Bonnie's swollen belly. He had never touched a pregnant woman before, well at least not her stomach. Bonnie was tiny in structure coming to his shoulder _with _heels on. She had curves but was still smaller than the average woman so to see her with this round belly it looked foreign yet natural on her.

After a minute or two of exploring, Stefan dropped his hand and then put space between them again. His life was nothing but a ball of complication and Bonnie just added to it. He really didn't know how he felt about this development. Maybe somewhere deep down he was excited at the prospect of being a father, but knowing this child was a product of a casual fling and not between two people who loved each other, hell had at one point been contracted to kill each other, made things feel off—wrong. He couldn't be a dad. Not now.

But this wasn't about what he wanted.

"Shit," he reiterated his earlier sentiments and then disappeared in his bedroom where he quickly donned a short sleeved charcoal grey T-shirt and dark jeans. He left his feet bare and when he came back into the living room, Bonnie had helped herself to a seat on the couch.

He sat across from her and watched as her fingers played with a lapis lazuli encrusted crucifixion.

"All right, look," Stefan slid to the edge of the sofa. "We have a lot of things to figure out. One, being who framed you to take the fall for what happened at the embassy in Geneva, and then clearing your name before we can even tackle…the baby. Where are you currently staying?"

Bonnie's lip twitched. "Wherever you are."

Stefan's eyebrows skyrocketed off his face. "Come again?"

"Wherever you go I follow you, Stefan."

Hmm that explained a lot of things, Stefan shook his head. "I have a house…it's my family home in Scotland…"

"Skyfall."

Would this woman cease to stop shocking him? What _didn't_ she know about him? M, hadn't even known about his house in Scotland. All she knew was that he had been a resident in an orphanage before being kicked out, and some anonymous source paid his way through university.

Stefan presented his most chagrined look while Bonnie shrugged sheepishly.

"It's in the middle of nowhere and very gauche," Bonnie filled in the rest of the blanks. "You think that's the best place for me to hide?"

"It's a start," he replied tersely. "Let me grab my stuff and we can start to work through a timeline of events, people you talked to at the agency who might have a grudge against you…"

"I've already compiled my list of suspects and have ruled out six out of twenty-four."

"That many enemies?" Stefan questioned with a smirk.

"When you're the favorite of the Chief of Operations people love to hate you."

Stefan rose from the couch and retrieved his wireless laptop. Waiting for his system to boot up, he quickly check his security feed which tapped into the hotel's. He saw some activity happening on the twenty-second floor which was three floors above him. From the looks of the paramedics rushing in and naked and/or scantily clad women running in the opposite direction down the halls, someone was in serious trouble. Or dead.

He flicked his eyes to Bonnie and noticed she was no longer playing with her necklace.

* * *

"What did the witnesses say?" the lead detective in charge asked one of the first responders as he carefully walked through the destroyed suite.

"He was standing by the window enjoying a drink when all of the sudden, the glass cracked, and he hit the floor, bleeding from the head, brain fragments flying everywhere."

The detective working the case turned to his partner who whispered the shot probably came from outside the building and was probably fired from a long range rifle.

Shaking his head, the detective strolled over to the recently deceased, looking into the dead eyes of a known operative who only went by one name: Klaus. Whoever took him out…they were good…not good but superb. Clean entry wound, nasty exit though. Wouldn't want to be on that person's bad side.

* * *

Bonnie listened intently as Stefan went over differing scenarios in who would set her up and why. She dug out her throwaway BlackBerry and quickly pulled up images of her latest hit. Klaus had been after Stefan for months, having been contracted to take him out, and with her condition she couldn't have anyone assassinate the father of her child. While Stefan had been busy putting on clothes, Bonnie checked the time on her watch and knew that at that precise moment, the deadly assassin known as Klaus stood in front of the east window like he did the previous night, and like he did most nights wherever he traveled before soaking up the pleasures of the night and flesh, enjoying a glass of brandy. Lips pulling back from his teeth, dimples on full display looking arrogant and haughty that at any time he wished he could end Stefan's life. Not on her watch. With the single push of her finger on a very beautiful necklace, a bullet flying over three hundred miles an hour some four blocks away found its resting point dead center in the middle of his forehead.

Game over for Klaus.

Kissing the middle pendant of her necklace, Bonnie smiled. Her future looked dismal but if there was one thing she could always depend on was the remote trigger to her high powered, long range rifle. It never failed her.

And she wouldn't fail at being a mother. That was her vow. That was her endgame. With or without Stefan she would do this because Bennett's never failed.

**The End. **

**A/N: Okay so let me explain the end. The middle stone of Bonnie's necklace acted as a remote trigger for her rifle usually set up in a building far away from her present location. It's how she's able to kill her targets while being in the same room with them when she's weapon-less, and to avoid suspicion. I hope that makes sense. Yeah, hate to keep this as a one-shot, but I'm terribly busy, but thank you, loves for reading. Let me know what you think! Oh, and if you're wondering for the purpose of this story Stefan is a citizen of the UK but not exactly British. See ya'll later in December!**


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